Roses Damasked
by ellesmer.joe3
Summary: Months after the War, the Ministry decides to reinstate the centuries-old Marriage Law. Anyone who is of age, unwed, and suitable to bear children are required to cooperate. Rhiannon, after receiving her letter, is astonished to find her compatibility tests aligning with those of one Professor Severus Snape.


**Roses Damasked**

 _My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;_

 _Coral is far more red than her lips' red;_

 _If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;_

 _If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head._

 _I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,_

 _But no such roses see I in her cheeks;_

 _And in some perfumes is there more delight_

 _Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks._

 _I love to hear her speak, yet well I know_

 _That music hath a far more pleasing sound;_

 _I grant I never saw a goddess go;_

 _My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:_

 _And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare_

 _As any she belied with false compare._

 _ **Sonnet 130, William Shakespeare**_

* * *

Severus Snape had become little less than a celebrity when the War ended.

He despised his new status with every fiber of his being. That was always very, very clear whenever a bold female student would try to flirt with him. His knack for handing out detentions had been somewhat dialed down, the main reason being that he would be giving his students exactly what they wanted: time alone with their new favorite Potions master.

Consequently, this was also why Rhiannon Beckett was the subject of ire in Ravenclaw House, and quite possibly in the entire school. She was the only one who refused to suck up to their Potions professor, therefore she was also the only one who still got detention every week or so.

The females of Hogwarts despised her for multiple reasons; the first being that they couldn't understand why she wasn't absolutely infatuated with Snape like everyone else was, the second being that he seemed to shower her with attention during classes (which was untrue), and the third being that Rhia downright balked at the idea of relaying the details of her detentions to them.

Sometimes, Rhia thought that they must have her pegged as a sleazy, considering the kind of "details" they always expected from her. It was appalling.

She could, of course, understand the school's great esteem for the sallow Potions professor. The whole of Wizarding Britain had heard of his espionage, his large role on the downfall of Lord Voldemort, all from the mouth of Harry Potter during Snape's hearing. There was no way the Wizengamot could place such a hero in Azkaban. As such, Rhia also felt a certain admiration towards Snape. He, in a way, had saved them all.

She just wouldn't stoop so low as to kiss his arse. The girls may have been infatuated with him but his words were still vile – perhaps in a poor attempt to regain their loathing.

It was because of this that Rhiannon found herself within his office once more, writing lines and trying to ignore his gaze burning into the side of her head.

Earlier that day, Snape had insulted a fourth year from Gryffindor. Given that the boys of said House still despised him as much as they did before the War, they didn't hesitate to start talking trash behind his back. Rhiannon had happened to be passing by and, for that reason, overheard said trash talking. Their words were entirely unfounded. She had told them so, which earned her a rebuttal, which she replied to, equally witty – which then descended into full-blown chaos as soon as one of his pals gained the audacity to draw his wand.

Rhiannon hadn't made it into her seventh year for nothing. She was also a Ravenclaw; she dealt with the small band of misfits easily enough. Unfortunately, Professor Snape had arrived just as the boys were running away with their tails between their legs.

Such ends the story of How She Earned Herself Yet Another Detention With Snape.

The allotted hour was almost over, and she was just about to finish her 34th line of 'I will not start fights' (she counted) when Snape abruptly broke the silence.

"Miss Beckett, I must admit that, despite my truest efforts, I cannot bring myself to understand your motives."

Confused, Rhia glanced up from her lines and found him intently staring at her from across the room. "My motives, sir?"

He stood up – fluidly, like a ghost – and began pacing towards her. "You glare at me," he said. "You openly defy me during class hours and, oftentimes, even in your free periods. To the rest of the world, it would seem as though you despise me with the very core of your being. And yet..." He tilted his head. "Your actions today proved quite contradictory to your beliefs against me. I want to understand why that is."

"You want to understand... why I contradict myself, sir?" She couldn't help the smirk that crawled up her cheeks; it was always amusing to act clueless in front of him. The way his eyes flashed suggested that he knew exactly what she was trying to accomplish.

"Ignorance does not become you, Miss Beckett." He had arrived at the front of her desk by then, crossing his arms and gazing down at her with glittering obsidian eyes. "What I wish to understand is why you oppose me in one moment, and then defend me in the next."

He sneered and Rhia knew better than to try being cheeky again.

"Professor Snape, I don't despise you. In fact, I admire you very much," she said. The slightest crease appeared between his eyebrows, giving away his bemusement. Rhiannon sighed. "Permission to be frank, sir?"

His eyes narrowed briefly. "Granted."

"Your actions in the War have warranted the debt of an entire nation, professor," she said. "I'm sure that during your years as a spy, you hardly believed that you would still be alive today. But you are, and now you have to live with the gratefulness and the admiration of men... and even _more_ women."

She smiled a bit at the contempt on his face. "Like them, I'm also grateful, and I also admire you, professor. However, unlike them, my sense of dignity is still intact. They may allow you to openly insult them during classes, but I won't stand for it... with all due respect, sir," she hastily added.

Snape was staring at her like she was something he'd found at the bottom of his boots. For a moment, she thought that perhaps she'd said too much, overstepped her bounds. Then she noticed the slight twitch of his lips.

"I'm sure your Head of House is all too satisfied that his best student is yet to lose her mind over someone who hardly deserves such attention," he said, and there was something so self-deprecating in his words that Rhia felt her heart clench.

"That's not true, sir. You deserve all the attention you're getting, and more."

Suddenly he swooped down, placing his hands on her desk so that his face was mere inches from hers. "Careful, Miss Beckett." He sneered. "It would be a shame for you to turn away from your beliefs so quickly, and immediately after a... rather interesting conversation."

Just as suddenly, he had pulled away, taking her parchment with him. "You may go now, Miss Beckett. I assure you that my honor has been through much worse than the silly name-calling of a fourth year, so do try not to get into so much trouble for it."

As Rhiannon was leaving, it occurred to her that what had just passed was perhaps the most polite conversation she had ever had with Snape. She smiled. It also occurred to her that, despite how rakish it was, perhaps Snape _needed_ someone to hate him.

.

.

The next morning, Rhia found that the universe had a very perverted sense of irony.

Owls were dropping parcels left and right, never leaving a student without his or her copy of the Daily Prophet. Even each one of the professors received a copy of the newspaper. Soon, the Great Hall was in an uproar. Rhia understood why as soon as she caught sight of the heading on the front page:

 _ **"Ministry of Magic reinstates Marriage Law"**_

With her heart in her mouth, her eyes travelled further down.

 _ **"This previous Tuesday evening, the Minister of Magic acknowledged during a public talk that the Wizarding World is in fact in danger of extinction, mostly due to the increasing statistics of stillbirths, squibs, and barren children within Pureblood intermarriages.**_

 _ **As such, he has stated that Pureblood marriages are to be condoned no longer. In addition to this, Purebloods are strongly encouraged to find spouses in the Muggleborn line, while Half-bloods are to bond with their own kind. This will instill a better genetic code that, in several years' time, may translate into a bigger, more superior Wizarding World.**_

 _ **Any and all magical persons who are of age, unwed and suitable to bear offspring will receive a letter from the Ministry. In its contents will be the written guidelines and further details of the newly renamed Marriage Law, which will be put into effect immediately. In other news, the Chudley Canons have been..."**_

The next thing she knew, a letter had been dropped onto her plate. The seal of the Ministry was stamped on the front. Looking around, she saw that a bunch of seventh years from every table had received similar letters and were all staring at them with identical looks of dread.

 _Any and all magical persons who are of age..._ Rhiannon had hoped that the Minister hadn't become so desperate as to include even those who were yet to finish their education. Apparently her hope had been misplaced.

She, alongside several other students (and perhaps even teachers) who were directly affected by the Marriage Law, tore open the envelope and unfolded the paper encased within. Her heart dropped at the clean, printed handwriting that awaited her.

 _Rhiannon Angela Beckett,_

 _Greetings from the Central Department of the Ministry of Magic_

 _Due to the recent implementation of the Marriage Law, we have seen it fit to inform you that personalized search for a partner will only be tolerated inasmuch as marriage papers will have been signed by the end of April. Furthermore, the marriage must be properly consummated and a fetus produced within 48 hours following the marriage ceremony, which will be observed by a Ministry official._

 _Failure to comply with the given instructions will lead to the direct infringement of the Central Department._

 _In addition to these directives, Minister Shacklebolt has, out of understanding and compassion for the people, taken it upon himself to assign possible candidates that may be taken into consideration. Magical tests were run to ensure the highest compatibility between you and whatever name you may find at the end of this page. They may very well be your best option._

 _Good luck and congratulations in advance._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Jacob Cartwright, Head of the Central Department_

Rhiannon's heart was pounding in her chest. She saw the final two lines written on the very bottom of the page, and it took every ounce of the hidden Gryffindor within her to finally read what was there.

 _Your compatibility tests align with the tests of:_

 _Severus Tobias Snape_

Someone touched her shoulder – "Who'd you get?" they asked – and Rhiannon all but sprung from her seat. She was aware of her heavy breathing, of the sets of eyes boring down on her. Quickly she shoved the Ministry letter into her pocket and made to leave the Great Hall, only to stop in her tracks.

Her body acted of its own accord; she glanced up at the High Table, eyes automatically zeroing in on the brooding man who always ate between the Headmistress and Professor Flitwick.

He held a Ministry letter in his hands. A look of disbelief sat firmly on his face. His eyes narrowed into slits, and then he raised his head and looked right at her.

Her heart leapt into her throat. Without another word, she turned around and stormed out of the Great Hall.

.

.

 _So much for not making a scene,_ she thought, eliciting a groan of misery into her pillow while the Ministry letter lay open-faced by her head.

She had read it little less than a dozen times, not for lack of understanding but with skepticism. Some part of her still believed that she would wake up from whatever nightmare she had been thrown into.

Apart from worrying about NEWTs, she was also stuck with the fact that she had to get married by the end of April. That was nigh two months away. And yet again, her eyes skimmed over the name at the bottom of the page. It had not changed in the past minute since she had looked. It remained Severus Tobias Snape.

She thought the Ministry must have made some sort of mistake – Snape couldn't have been a Half-blood. Half-bloods didn't get sorted into Slytherin – but then she realized that such an idea was preposterous. After the War, the Wizarding World had been careful about who they put on the Minister's seat. They didn't want another Thicknesse on their hands. If Shacklebolt had been placed at the head of office, then he must have known what he was doing.

Still, Rhia couldn't help the spike of hatred that she felt for the man. She had her whole life planned out; she wouldn't marry unless she was absolutely sure about her feelings; she would live with her sister in Diagon Alley and apply for a job in the Ministry. And then the Marriage Law was implemented and she wasn't sure what was going to happen anymore.

Thinking that there could be no harm done about it, she swiftly wrote a letter to her sister, Rachelle, explaining the whole situation to her – including her apparent compatibility with Snape – and, in the process, swearing her to secrecy.

The next few days passed with her keeping her head down, especially during Potions. When girls weren't busy asking her what name she'd gotten on her Ministry letter, they were complaining about how they hadn't been paired with Snape; it would have given them a reason to increase their advances – thus, Rhiannon's excuse to keep her mouth shut. She never told them that, though. She never told them anything.

Meanwhile, Snape was taking the new Marriage Law very poorly.

He was constantly in a horrid mood. And if Rhia had any pretenses that they had something close to kinship, all that disappeared the same moment he saw her name on his letter. He wasn't vile; he downright _ignored_ her, much to the delight of the females of Hogwarts. Rhia would have taken his heavy-handed insults any day instead of the cold shoulder, which turned out to be much worse.

Her sister's reply came a few days later, containing the expected long paragraph of surprise and hateful exclamations regarding the new law, but at the end were a few short lines that Rhia hadn't wanted to see.

 _"I sincerely hope you've thought to approach McGonagall about this, Rhiannon. And if you have, the next possible step would be to talk to Snape. Get some closure."_

As a matter of fact, she hadn't approached McGonagall. Not yet. She was yet to muster the courage, but in reading Rachelle's letter, she found that it was, indeed, the most evident option there was, and perhaps even the most helpful. So, once all her classes were finished the next day, and after making sure that her Potions essay was written and proof-read, she made her way to the Headmistress' office.

The stone gargoyle asked for the password and, after Rhia stated that she did not know it, then inquired as to what her business was. Her answer – "I'm here to speak with the Headmistress," – had barely made it through her lips when the gargoyle suddenly moved, revealing the circular staircase beyond.

Rhia walked onto the moving steps, not for the first time trying to quell her uneasy stomach. She had never approved of anything that moved in a circular motion, nor of anything that moved too rapidly – reasons why she would never be a fan of Quidditch and the art of Disapparition.

Her nausea only increased when she entered the Headmistress' office only to find that Professor Snape was already there. He and McGonagall seemed to be in a deep and rather heated discussion.

"Severus, for Merlin's sake! You know as well as I that Albus was the only one among all three of us who could possibly hold sway over the Ministry, and he isn't here anymore."

"You can't possibly expect me to go through with whatever Shacklebolt expects of me. She's a student, Minerva! I'd have expected you to put up more of a fight in her honor—"

"Her honor isn't what's at stake here. I dare say it is yours. Don't think I haven't noticed your favor for the girl." Her voice softened a bit. "It's alright to care for her, Severus. That only shows how correct the Ministry's compatibility tests were."

Snape's voice turned into a hiss. "Those tests were merely for the sake of any child who will be born under the implementation of this amendment. Shacklebolt wants perfect little witches and wizards. He did not run those tests _out of the kindness of his heart_."

By then, a blush worthy of her eleven year-old self had crept into her cheeks. Rhia stepped into the room, placing three firm knocks on the door to announce her presence.

McGonagall's eyes grew wide as she turned in her direction, and likewise, Snape's nostrils flared. He snatched a piece of paper off of McGonagall's table, but as soon as Rhiannon caught sight of the familiar handwriting, she quickly pulled her own out of her pocket. He paled a bit at the sight of it, though she could have been imagining things.

"Rhiannon," McGonagall greeted, smoothing down her robes in what must have been an effort to compose herself. "I admit, I had expected you to come to me sooner. This is about the Ministry letter, is it not?"

"Yes, professor." Rhia's voice sounded weaker than she remembered; she cleared her throat. "I can come back later if you—"

"Oh heavens no! If anything, Miss Beckett, I think this conversation is long overdue already. Come, sit."

McGonagall stood and ushered her into the seat, as if she expected her to run away. Rhiannon could feel Snape's intimidating presence behind her like the shadow of a mountain.

"I am quite aware that this is a delicate matter, something that, admittedly, I was not trained for," said the Headmistress. "Professor Snape has already spoken of his concerns regarding the situation, as I'm quite sure you heard..."

Abashed, Rhia lowered her head. "Yes, professor."

"The only question I can think to ask that might help is... well..." McGonagall clasped her thin fingers on the desk, pursing her lips. "It was made very clear that the name written on your letter is not your sole option, however it does, in fact, remain the best one. But the heart of the matter is still what _you_ want – so I ask this, Miss Beckett: what do you want?"

That was the blunder, wasn't it? Rhia had lost many hours of sleep asking herself the same question. She had come up with an answer, too, but sitting under the shadow of the man who had been occupying her thoughts lately did little wonder for her frayed nerves.

"I'm not so sure what I want anymore, professor, now that the Marriage Law is in effect. I certainly didn't want a husband until I'd made a name for myself," she began. She heard the light scoff that came from behind her, and she could imagine Snape throwing McGonagall a look that said _I told you so._ "Now I know that that cannot happen, due to what the Minister has declared, but if I have to find a partner within two months, then..." She cleared her throat. "I wouldn't be wholly opposed to the idea of Professor Snape becoming said partner, if he would have me."

Silence reigned for several long moments. Rhiannon could feel Snape's disbelieving gaze burning into the back of her head, though her eyes never strayed from McGonagall's. The old witch seemed lost in thought, but there was a barely discernible spark in her eye, something Rhia had noticed too many times sitting behind Dumbledore's spectacles.

"Headmistress, she's clearly delusional," Snape hissed. "I seem to recall not seeing her for lunch earlier today, nor for dinner."

McGonagall's gaze turned stern. "Is this true, Rhiannon?"

"Y-yes, professor." She blushed as she hurriedly added, "But only because I was finishing my essay for Potions, which is due tomorrow."

"Surely you could have finished it earlier this week. If I'm correct, you had an ample amount of free periods."

"Professor Snape only handed out the assignment this morning, professor. Two rolls of parchment."

McGonagall fixed her stern glare at Snape this time. "Two rolls in one day! Why on earth would you allow so little time, Severus, especially this close to final exams?"

"I asked Emma Whitby a fairly simple question, one that she, nor anyone else, could answer. It was clear they needed reviewing." He sneered. "However, I did not come here to be criticized on my teaching methods, Headmistress."

"Yes, the both of you came here for different reasons entirely." She then pursed her lips. "I'm afraid the only advice I can give, to the both of you, is to talk it out amongst yourselves. There is very little that I can do now that the Minister has issued the decree. But it rings true that you have been placed in a very difficult position, so I assure the two of you that whatever decision you may come to, I will understand wholeheartedly, and I will support you to the best of my ability."

That was a dismissal if Rhia had ever heard one. She forced a smile. "Thank you, professor. That means a lot."

She stood and made her way to the door, but she didn't miss McGonagall's soft statement of "Severus", because then the clicking of his boots on the floor was following in her wake, following her down the circular staircase and away from the stone gargoyle.

When they were a safe distance away, she stopped and stood stock still, unsure of what to do. McGonagall had told them to speak amongst themselves, but did they have to immediately?

She was saved from having to decide when Snape muttered, "Come with me," and promptly took off down the corridor. Rhia dutifully trailed after him.

He led her to his office and it occurred to her that she'd never been inside unless it was to serve a detention. _The irony,_ she mused as she sat across from him, waiting for the verdict.

"I don't think you understand just what you are walking into, Miss Beckett," he said after a while. "Never mind what rumors there are about me, none of them are true. You know nothing about me and yet you say that you would willingly bond yourself to me."

"I know you enough that you'd never just hand over your secrets," she softly retorted. "If we were to marry, I think... or I _hope_... that I would gain enough of your trust for you to be able to confide in me. As equals."

A thoughtful expression came onto his face. "And what more would you expect from this hypothetical marriage, Miss Beckett?"

"Nothing more, sir, only..." She took a deep breath. "Only that I hope you won't expect too much from me in return. I can be a right idiot sometimes even though I'm in Ravenclaw. I can't cook. I despise Quidditch and I'm absolutely horrid at Apparating. I haven't got a Gallon to my name. I'm afraid of heights. I sleep in my underwear. I like too much milk with my tea. I... I start spouting nonsense when I have absolutely no idea what to say."

Upon realizing this, she blushed and ducked her head. But just as quickly, Snape placed two fingers beneath her chin and applied the slightest pressure, forcing her to look at him once more. His hand strayed to the side of her jaw, the lightest of touches on the roots of her red hair.

"If I reject you now," he said, and she felt a little jolt at his use of the word _if_ and not _when_ , "Who will you turn to?"

"Honestly, professor, I haven't gotten as far as that. Even though I knew that it was almost impossible for you to want me – to want to marry me, that is..." She cleared her throat. "It just always crossed my mind that I could be happy with you."

A dark look crossed his face. "I am not a good man, Miss Beckett. I am not kind. I am far from the knight in shining armor that you've read in your stories. Oh, no, you'll find that I am the villain. The tamer of the dragon."

"Truly, Professor Snape, I've always thought that a villain is infinitely more fascinating... and more alluring."

"Then I am the devil risen from hell."

"Do you _want_ me to hate you?"

Growling, he snatched his hand away and crossed his arms. "After your last detention, I would have thought you'd have an idea as to exactly what I _want_ from you."

"That's a yes then. You want me to hate you." _You NEED me to hate you,_ she added in her head. She was getting tired of beating around the bush. "Professor Snape, if you don't want to marry me then just say it. Don't make me guess. Not with this. That damned Ministry letter is just to show who your best pair is, that's all. We can find other people. I'm sure there are more than a few women who would be honored to be your wife."

"You still don't understand, you silly girl." In the blink of an eye, he had sprung from his seat and was right in front of her, hands on her armrests and leaning close. Slowly, as if speaking to a child, he said, "You don't want me."

"Actually, professor, I do." She bit back a smile, wondering where her boldness had come from.

"And _I don't want you_."

The smile fell away then. Snape's eyes glittered, almost as if in triumph. Rhia tried to ignore the deep sting of rejection and looked closer... He had hidden behind his mask again, the mask of the Death Eater turned spy.

"Am I so vile to you?" she murmured.

The facade cracked a bit; he raised his voice. "You are my _student_ , Miss Beckett. I have no choice."

"You got a Ministry letter with my bloody name on it. Even they bloody well know you have a choice."

"YOU DON'T WANT ME!"

She couldn't help it; she cowed a bit at the sudden loudness of his voice, especially in such close proximity. Immediately he moved away, crossing his arms, retreating behind his wall.

When he spoke again, he had reverted back to the silky drawl that had become so familiar to her. "This is precisely what I mean, Rhiannon. I will frighten you... Perhaps I may even hurt you."

He had never called her by her first name before. That was surely a step in the right direction.

Carefully, Rhia straightened in her seat, attempting to compose herself. "I've had to deal with your insults for the better part of seven years, professor. What's another lifetime?"

He sat back down in his chair and she smirked a bit; she was tiring him out. "Will you not cease?"

"Not until you come to a decision."

A long, drawn out sigh escaped him. "I will not decide on something so crucial as this with you watching me all throughout, Miss Beckett."

"What do you want me to do?"

"At the moment, all I want is for you to leave. I need time to think."

"Oh... Alright." There came that keen sting again, just above her heart. His rejection had never hurt so much before, and it was an odd thing, really, that the pain would come at the expense of a hypothetical marriage.

Not expecting an apology but wanting one nevertheless, she paused briefly outside his office, and when nothing came, she shut the door behind her.

.

.

He took longer than she'd expected him to.

Three weeks passed with no word from him. Rhiannon was forced to go about her classes and revisions and it became an ample distraction, pulling her away from thoughts about the Marriage Law. She had her eyes on a boy from Gryffindor if Snape should push her away, but surprising even herself, she discovered that she very much did _not_ want Snape to say no.

No longer did he ignore her. In fact, their relationship inside the classroom seemed to have returned to its old ways. He would deny the flirtations and advances of any girl who was foolish enough to even try, and he would throw backhanded insults at her, and she would step up to the challenge and answer back.

Unlike their old relationship, however, he no longer gave her detentions.

And also unlike their old relationship, whenever she had her head down, busy brewing during Potions, or even while she was eating in the Great Hall – she could swear that he was watching her, observing her, only to look elsewhere whenever she bothered to raise her head. She didn't know what to make of it.

A month after their conversation regarding the Marriage Law and a week before NEWTs, Snape asked her to stay behind after a particularly grueling double-period of Potions.

When everyone else had gone, she followed him into his office, spine rigid in anticipation. He came to stand in front of his desk.

"Miss Beckett... Rhiannon."

She shuddered a bit at the way he said her name – almost as if he were trying out the taste of it on his tongue.

"Step forward," he said.

Hesitantly, Rhia did as he asked, walking forward until she stood in the middle of the room. She felt as though he was assessing her like a pig for slaughter, but his eyes never left her face.

"Tell me, _Rhiannon_ ," he sneered. "What do you appreciate about me?"

She frowned. "Appreciate, sir?" He only nodded and offered no further explanation. Bemused, she took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. "Your bravery, of course, what you did in the War was no small feat. And your intelligence – that's always something a Ravenclaw is bound to appreciate. Your dry humor. Your skill in potion making. And your..."

She paled a bit at what she had almost said; she desperately hoped that he hadn't noticed, or that he would just let it slide, but he was not that kind of person.

"Go on." He raised an eyebrow and she sighed in resignation.

"I... I appreciate your voice, sir."

The ghost of a smile appeared on his thin lips. Rhia would have repeated herself if only to see that smile widen, but she was much too embarrassed, because Snape was suddenly there, all too close.

"I say," he drawled, "You do have an interesting _taste_ in men, Miss Beckett."

Realizing that he was teasing her, she raised her head and glared at him. And there was that smile again. "And what do you appreciate about me, Professor Snape?"

"Your tenacity," he replied, never missing a beat. "Your sharp tongue, although at times it makes me want to claw my hair out. Your voice can be quite grating even at the best of times."

Another insult, no worse than anything she'd ever heard from him before, but somehow still managing to deliver the heaviest blow. She fought to keep a straight face – and failed, apparently, for his expression shifted into something kinder. She had never seen that before.

"And, because I am only a man, after all..." His fingertip trailed across her cheek. "Your beauty."

Those were two words Rhiannon had never, in her seven years at Hogwarts, _never_ expected to hear from the dreaded bat of the dungeons.

She must have been blushing because then Snape drew back a little bit. "Surely you've been called beautiful before, Miss Beckett?" She shook her head and watched as he pursed his lips. "Dunderheads," he muttered under his breath.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Will I have to wait any longer for your answer, professor?"

"Not much longer. I only have one more thing to consider and this will, again, require your full cooperation."

"What is it?"

He sneered. "Call it an experiment of sorts."

Slowly, like she was made of glass, he placed his hand on her cheek, cradling her jaw. His thumb traced the curve of her lower lip and she saw that he was watching it. The air left her lungs all at once.

The kiss was gentle at first, barely there, the whisper of a breeze. His lips were surprisingly soft and warm, if a bit chapped. He smelled like... well, he smelled like what the Potions classroom smelled like during the brewing process. But it was familiar to Rhiannon, therefore reassuring.

Feeling an abrupt swell of courage, she parted her lips the slightest bit, added the smallest amount of pressure, and then she found what she was looking for.

Fireworks.

 _So this is what that compatibility test was about,_ she mused.

Her stomach coiled pleasantly, her toes curled, but at the same time her knees grew weak. Her fingers scrambled for purchase on his thick waistcoat, but by then he was pulling away. Rhia hadn't expected the blank canvas that awaited her; her heart plummeted to the ground.

"Nothing?" Her voice broke and she tried to hide it by clearing her throat. He merely blinked, nothing more.

Rhia already had her hand on the doorknob when he chose to speak.

"On the contrary, Miss Beckett," he said. "That was, in fact, _everything_."

And just as like that, her heart was soaring again. It was amazing how only a few words from him could affect her so greatly. Perhaps that was how she knew that the Ministry's compatibility test wasn't a total hoax.

"I'll come back tomorrow for your decision, sir."

She was smiling when she stepped outside, and when she spared a glance over her shoulder to see Snape deep in thought, his thumb absentmindedly trailing over his lips, she knew she had him.

* * *

 _A/N: I found a Youtube video of Alan Rickman reciting Sonnet 130 and I just knew that I had to somehow relate that to this fic, which I had begun writing just a few days before I found the vid._

 _It doesn't relate much to the plot, except that the meaning of the poem is essentially summarized in the couplet at the end:_ _"And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare a_ _s any she belied with false compare." The situation they've found themselves in is far from perfect, and the two of them are far from perfect, but it is still rare and I think Snape, now that he's paid his debt to Lily, in a way, he's free to make his own decisions. Deep down he probably thinks that he could be happy with Rhiannon as well, and vice versa._

 _What do you guys think? Make sure to leave a review! :)_

 _P.S. Please do forgive any spelling or grammar errors. I don't have a beta reader._


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